The King Has Abdicated

After putting off a long ride for a bit too long, I woke up this morning with one intent: Mercer. Wandered downstairs, made myself some oatmeal for a solid breakkie. Got the bike ready, packed on the layers, and headed out. As I was heading for Seward via the BGT, I managed to take a wrong turn, and found myself down on Lake Washington Blvd. This meant that I had to climb back up to the intersection with Madison. Died. Wtf?

Rode down along Lake Washington Blvd through Leschi to the turn off to the I-90 Trail. Climbing up that fried me. Wtf? The little climb up from the I-90 bridge to the Lid? Cooked. This sucks! So the TdF "King of the Mountains" jersey is going off the hanger straight into a drawer, preferably under lock and key. I'm not fit to wear it anymore.

But I may have the right to a different kingdom. As I started out from the Lid I heard that all too familiar ting as I broke a spoke. Yes, folks, that's right. He's done it again. The King is back, baby! This time it only involved a mile walk (instead of six) back to the Lid where I awaited the arrival of my friend and savior, Eve. At least this time I knew how to carry the non-rolly bike, and to warn the bike shop to make sure to order the spoke and the nipple at the same time.

Stop laughing, F.